


A Glass of Water and a Plumber

by asphaltskylight



Category: Emily in Paris (TV)
Genre: Beginnings, Canon Compliant, Extended Scene, F/M, Inner Dialogue, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27421846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asphaltskylight/pseuds/asphaltskylight
Summary: Extended/missing scenes from the beginning episodes of the show. Slightly playing with inner thoughts and dialogue during the beginnings of Emily and Gabriel's dynamic.
Relationships: Emily Cooper/Gabriel (Emily in Paris)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	A Glass of Water and a Plumber

**Author's Note:**

> If Emily -had- accepted Gabriel's offer of a glass of water, while still only revealing the little they know about one another at that point and an extension of Emily asking Gabriel for help understanding the plumber.

Moving to Paris had been an impulse decision and it had almost felt like a dream , like I’ll wake up and be back in Chicago in my place. I can admit that coming to work in Paris without knowing the language is going to be difficult, but I always tell myself to keep my head up. This isn’t my old job where everyone _knew_ “Emily Cooper.” I’m going to have to prove myself if I want to make waves at Savoir. 

Yesterday, I had made the mistake of being two hours early to work. I’m used to early mornings. I love going on early morning runs, especially since I get to explore my new surroundings. I live in _France_. I can’t get over how I actually live here. 

I slowed down my running, and slightly out of breath, input the lock code into the apartment keypad. After jogging up five flights of stairs, it happens. I’d been jangling my keys into the lock of my apartment when the door opened. It was slightly ajar all on its own. Two inquisitive eyes peek out from behind the door as it opens to reveal my neighbor.

“Oh, jeez”—I sigh—“I did it again. I’m really so sorry.” 

Gabriel smiles, “Emily, do you want to live in my apartment?”

Okay. Maybe I’m not _too_ sorry. Seeing his cheeky grin was a nice alternative to my coworkers’ looks of disapproval. I scoff. “Come on, even you have to admit that the floor numbering here makes absolutely no sense.” 

“You are very wet.” He peers at me questioningly, taking in my appearance.

Really? My new neighbor just _had_ to look _that_ good just standing next to a door. Am I imagining things or does he like what he sees? Wow. Being away from home, I must be pretty loony to believe my neighbor might be _into_ me. What is this—only the _second_ time we’ve met. My cheeks flush… or maybe I’m just… sweaty? I lift the back of my hand to brush back the hairs that had fallen on my forehead, matted with sweat. “What? Oh. Yeah, um… I just ran five miles, but I really don’t know what that is in kilometers.”

“Can I get you a glass of water? It’s a long way to the fifth floor.” He grins wider now, a friendly invitation.

I paused for a moment. My smart watch had said 9:39AM when I arrived at our apartment building. I could just say I have to get to work, but what had Luc said? _Don’t be early._ Besides, I have enough time to be punctual, especially by French standards in my new office. The little curve of his lips in his smiles was all the encouragement I needed. “Actually, yes, I could use a glass of water.” I smile at his offer. 

Gabriel opens the door leaning with his hand on it as I walk past. I stand beside the couch near the apartment entrance, not knowing if I should sit. 

He walks in, looking at me, and chuckles, “Please sit down while I go get you a glass of water. Make yourself comfortable."

I watch him go. This being only our second encounter, I’m a little surprised at the ease I feel in his presence. I don’t know much about him. It’d be nice to have another friend while I’m here. I find myself wanting to know more about my neighbor on the _fourth_ floor. 

It baffles me that I made my way up five flights of stairs just to be reminded that I need to go up _six_ flights of stairs to get to my apartment. My lips curl up. Maybe the confusion is worth spending more time with the guy downstairs. On this note, he comes back with the glass of water, our hands briefly touching when he hands it to me, and then he goes to sit beside me on the faded couch. 

He turns towards me, his own glass of water cold in one hand, “Do you usually try to open the wrong door, or is this something you only do to my apartment?”

“It’s instinct! I’ve been walking up five flights of stairs to get to the fifth floor my whole life.” I laugh. “Thank you for being so understanding every time I’ve jabbed my keys into your door.” I take a sip of water.

“It’s no problem. Welcome to Paris, Emily.” His arm is draped on top of the back of the couch. “What brings you to France?” He asks.

“I’m here for work. My boss back in Chicago was supposed to take the position, but when she no longer could, the firm asked me if I would and I jumped at the opportunity. I’d never left the country before.” He nods as I finish the glass of water, clutching it in my hands.

He points in the general direction of the building entrance. “My work is near the apartment. I usually finish work late at night. Maybe I will see you around.” He smiles. 

He goes to take the glass from my hands and goes towards his kitchen with both cups in tow.

“I don’t see how we wouldn’t.” I let out a laugh. Not bothering to remember I have a watch, I ask the once again visible Gabriel, “wait, what time is it?” 

“It’s 9:53.” His eyebrows slightly raised and his smile curious. “Do you need to go?”

I have a feeling he didn’t mind spending time with me, too. I go to stand up. “Yes, I have to get to work, but um,”—my cheeks flush—“I promise I won’t bang on your door again.” Maybe another time, I’ll take Luc’s _Don’t be early_ more at heart. I wonder when Gabriel and I would do this again. Maybe I wouldn’t be as alone in Paris anymore.

We make our way to leave his apartment. He jokes with his hand perched above my head, resting on the door. “No problem. Bang any time.”

“You’re funny,” I chuckle out awkwardly. I turn around and move towards the stairs until I trip and grab the railing. I look back at him as if sharing a joke, and continue my way up to the _real_ fifth floor. 

His hand is on the still open door, watching as I leave. Once I’m out of view, Gabriel laughs softly, shaking his head and shutting the door. 

* * *

Someone is using the knocker on my door. Why now? I huff. I roll out of bed, not bothering to put a shirt on, grab a jacket, and edge the door open, blinking away the sleep from my eyes as they focus on the slight shape in front. 

Immediately, the slight shape, Emily, says, “Hi. Can you come talk to my plumber? It’s an emergency.” 

I blink, my mind trying to catch up to her words. I was woken up for a plumbing emergency? Why had I told her she could _bang any time_? “Good morning, Gabriel. How are you today?” I respond, sleep alluding me as I take in her rushed words.

She slows down, smiling and meaningfully parrots the words back at me. “Good morning, Gabriel. How are you today?”

“Asleep. Thank you for asking.” I reply. “I was having a very nice dream,”—I shrug on my green jacket—“and this American girl banged on my door and woke me up.” 

She briefly mocks my thinly veiled frustration with her smile. 

“Or maybe I’m still dreaming?” I joke, waiting for her response. I look both ways with my eyes, right about to zip up my jacket—“You’re not dreaming. You’re wide awake,” she counters, rushing and grabbing my hand. 

“Don’t let him leave until he fixes my shower.” I hear as I’m pulled along by the grasp of Emily’s hand, wondering why I so easily let myself be dragged away by the girl from the fifth floor. 

Yanked away from my apartment and towards hers, my mind wanders to the feeling of her hand around mine as she practically hurtles us in the direction of her door. 

Asking the plumber about Emily’s shower, I come to the realization that she came to me for help. Just as she did this same morning when our landlady was arguing with her, both not understanding. Of course, I had been conveniently on my way out while she was grasping at straws asking for the landlady’s assistance. I wonder if she would have careened towards my apartment like she was doing now. If she would have pulled me by the hand, somehow knowing I would stop whatever I was doing to be there. I guess our landlady _did_ call for a plumber. I laugh inwardly. _Le bidet._ I’m content knowing that, despite my previous and quickly forgotten tiredness, I appreciate this opportunity to know more about her, even if it’s just the plumbing of her apartment.

I watch her out of the corner of my eye. Emily’s confusion is conveyed plainly on her face. For a moment, the idea of Emily having to deal with not knowing what was going on with her shower all day, all because she couldn’t speak the language, pangs me. It must be difficult being so far from what she knew as her home. Briefly, I wonder who she may have left behind. I dismiss the thought, focusing on the task at hand. I’m glad I can help _her_. The girl a floor above me. 

The plumber continues to relay what he needs to me. I nod, sympathizing with the plumber. 

“What did he say?” She questions.

“He would like some coffee. Uh… and a croissant.”

Wide awake, talking to the plumber, I was comfortable in Emily’s apartment. Making the most out of this unexpected breakfast, the plumber and I share what our days were like when France won the World Cup. This is not how I thought my morning would go, but when life makes an American girl appear at my door, dragging me out of bed, I’ve decided to just go with it. 

Speaking of an American girl… “What did he say?” 

“Oh, um, uh, we were just talking about where we both were when France won the World Cup. Honestly, you couldn’t walk down the street that day—”

“Okay, what about the shower?”

I could feel the stress bubbling up from within her as I explained, “He needs a part. But it’s not ordinary, so it could take a few days. Or a few weeks. Depending.” My summary of the plumber’s plight done, I take a breath, eyes wandering away from the plumber and around her kitchen. _Why does she break everything?_ The landlady had grilled me. Whatever the reason, Emily had waltzed into my life again.

The plumber goes to shake my hand and then says goodbye to Emily. I look at the coffee in front of me. This is my first time in her apartment and as I sit at the kitchen table, I find myself oddly thankful that her shower isn’t working.

“Uh, okay, what do I do until then?” 

I don’t think Emily shares the thought. I smile, eyes beaming with a new design in mind, “Use mine.” Thank you, faulty plumbing. Another way to see more of Emily lands on my lap. My mornings are far more amusing with her knocking and banging at my door, even at the cost of unfinished dreams.

She blushes as if considering my offer. 

I move to the kitchen sink, lazily breezing past her and around the counter. Her eyes follow me. She shoots me a questioning glance. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing,”—I point my now empty hands towards the cups beside the sink—”I’m going to wash the coffee cups.” I lean back in front of the sink, arms straight atop the counter, eyebrows raised.

Emily rolls her eyes playfully. “You don’t have to do that…” She floats towards me, hand about to reach for one of the cups—

I stop her by the wrist, lightly holding on, before letting go. “I want to, Emily. Besides, it’s the least I can do after you went to buy the plumber and I croissants and coffee.” I grin down at her, awaiting her response.

“Yes, but”—she pauses, unsure—“I woke you up and then, you helped me understand my plumber _and_ you’re offering me your shower. Buying you breakfast was the _least_ _I_ could do.” Her fingers circle and twist around in her hair at her mention of my offer, as if noting how recent our first meeting was. _This is the fourth floor_. I had said. 

The faucet comes to life as I move to wash the two, small coffee cups. I’ve enjoyed our time together. Maybe a little too much… I lightly shake my head, turning back at her for only a moment, and return my attention to the cups. “It’s fine.” I laugh. “This was a very _interesting_ way to start my day.” 

She sits down, watching as I lay the clean cups on a small, dish towel next to the sink. Turning towards her, I dry my hands with a rag. I glance around her apartment, eyes landing on the window before finally resting on her. 

She stands up. “So… about that shower? Are you sure you’re okay with me using it? I’ll understand—”

“Oh mon dieu, Emily”—I lightheartedly wave away her doubts and brush behind her in the direction of the door, looking back—“I’ll lead the way.” She grabs her toiletries and we exit her apartment. 

“Thank you, again… I really appreciate it.” She smiles shyly.

“We are neighbors now, Emily.” I reassure her. We slowly walk down the stairs. I lightly bump into her side before continuing ahead. “Amis,” I wink at her. _Amis_. 

Her eyes shine with mirth at my statement. “Oui,”—she chuckles—“amis.”

I’d spent little time with the American girl. This did little to deter how the bounce in her step and the happiness in her eyes made my heart soar… We’re neighbors, I remind myself… _friends_.

Before she had gone to my bathroom to shower, we decided to exchange numbers. After all, I won’t always be there when she bangs on my door, I had added to support the interaction with a half-smile on my face. I didn’t know why knowing she could call if she ever needed me was such a happy thought, or why I had insisted that we be able to reach one another. Having each other’s numbers made what he have feel… _real._ This girl was _really_ my neighbor. Unlike I had teased earlier, I wasn’t still dreaming.

I hear the shower running from my seat on my couch. _Emily_ . I wonder what goes on inside her head. I remember her surprise when I walked to her table at the restaurant. _Everything is perfect._ She’d tried to tell me. I knew her well enough now to know when she had a problem. I laugh to myself.

I watch her enter the living area with her hair wrapped up in the blue towel, and wearing her colorful, pink robe. 

“Merci for the shower.” She says, already heading towards the door. She only spares a glance. I shake my head, staring at the papers before me.

“La douche.” I tell her.

She stops, perplexed. “What?” 

I chuckle, “The shower is ‘la douche.’” 

As she leaves my apartment, I’m once again left watching her go, left smiling alone in my apartment. I breathe out another laugh, returning my attention to my papers. A glass of water and a plumber. I muse to myself. I hear the door click shut. 

“ _Amis,_ ” I hum. Emily Cooper, my neighbor, the girl from the fifth floor. _Bang any time_. I turn my head to the wall closest to my door. -I meant it-.


End file.
